Broken, Beat, and Scarred
by Old-Soul-Rock-n-Roll
Summary: Could be interpreted as friendship. Rorschach looses his pride, bravado, identity, and virginity all in one night. Who will find him bleeding to death in an alley? M for morbidity and adult themes. Please don't say Rorschach is OOC, look at the title.


Part One: Rorschach's Journal

**Rorschach's Journal October 13th, 1985, 8:30 P.M.**

Meeting with Veidt left bad taste in mouth. He is pampered and decadent, betraying even his own liberal affectations. Hate images. Thoughts of pleasuring the man I loathe, part of disgusting politicians. Veidt is smart. Can trick public. Knows that he is rich because of tricking public. Very smart. Very tricky. Sexy… Will not be one-night-stand whore. Will not compromise for disgusting politician. Public drowning in misery and sins. How does Veidt stay above it? Greek god. Beautiful Ozymandias… Possibly homosexual? Must remember to investigate further. Tonight, I planned to tell the indestructible man that someone plans to murder him. Instead, I choose to confront my own distorted illusions. Must fight Veidt. If I cannot help myself- can not help people. Cannot help people from themselves.

**Rorschach's Journal October 14****th****, 1985, 2:38 A.M.**

In alleyway. Might be last entry. Need help. No help. Why are so few of us left active, healthy, and without personality disorders? Justice will not prevail. Walter needed hero. No hero. Walter became hero. Hero murdered. Walter dies. Walter becomes Rorschach. Rorschach takes no pity. Helps. Will not compromise. Hard justice. Does not sin. Does not fall. Has no mercy. Rorschach realizes he is human. Feels… lust. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Towards a man. Wrong. Wrong. Confronts it… Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Gets raped and tortured and thrown out in alleyway to die. Justice will not prevail. No help. Rorschach needs hero. Rorschach is only hero.

**Rorschach's Journal October 14****th****, 1985, 3:46 A.M.**

Have not died yet. Seems some part still needs life. Still hopes. Still wants to preserve innocence. Blacked out for a time. Woke up again. Didn't think I would. Will lay here, until Death takes me.

**Rorschach's Journal October 14****th****, 1985, 4:04 A.M.**

I am no one. Rorschach is dead. Rorschach bent the rules. Bent own moral standards. Became hypocrite. Walter, too, is dead. Died long ago. Who inhabits this body? Who is contemplating having this body now? This worthless body? Don't have strength to take off skin. Stopped raining.

**Rorschach's Journal October 14****th****, 1985, 5:19 A.M.**

Started crying. Sobbing. Strangely wishing for… Dan. Realize only friend. Only semi-trusted person. Does not matter that life is being wasted moping in basement of dreams. I still… love him? Who loves? Not Walter. Surly not Rorschach. Don't have strength to write more.

Part Two: Daniel's Idea

Okay so, I've come up with an idea. I'm gonna help Rorschach. No, not psychologically. I don't care what mental help he needs. He can't be out there alone! He's… mentally weak and… If I convince him to stay here with me and turn the basement into a place for him to stay, maybe he'll eat something other than cold beans. Maybe he'll take a shower. Maybe he'll be able to rest somewhere other than New York's unforgiving streets. But first, I've gotta get into shape. I'm starting with a mourning jog. Last night, I went to bed early and set my alarm for 4:30 A.M. I haven't told Hollis Mason what I'm doing… I don't want to scare the living daylights out of him! It's strange because I usually don't wake up before my alarm, but this morning I woke up at 3:00 A.M! Maybe earlier, but I lay in bed for a little bit before I looked at the clock. I tried to get back to sleep, but something in me was breaking. I couldn't do anything about it though. Eventually I drifted back to sleep. When I woke up again, it was five minutes before my alarm was to go off. I turned it off and headed for the showers. Once I was done getting ready I grabbed my water bottle and sneakers and went for a jog in the early morning. It was 5:15 when I left the house. I was jogging around for a few minutes, before I started to hear … weeping? Screaming? Hysterics? A tiny whimper? And then… nothing. I quickly ran around the twisted back streets, trying to find the source. I looked down every dark alleyway, and soon I saw a figure lying down in fetal position with a book near it. There was blood everywhere. As I got closer, to my horror, I identified the body. It was Rorschach. The rest is a blur, I remember scooping him into my arms, holding him tightly, and sobbing hysterically. I see his notebook. I pick it up, still holding him. I'm back in my apartment. I lay him on the bathroom floor on a towel. I need his permission to tend to his wounds. I will not pass that respect boundary. I softly tap his shoulder and call his name.

"Rorschach?" I call; worry enveloping my voice. I only have to wait a few seconds. My heart breaks as I see his face lift up in the slightest of ways, signaling he is awake.

"Hrmph." He has no idea how that makes me smile. But the next words that cross his lips I never expected to hear. "Not Rorschach." He pauses, my eyes are bulging out. "Where?"

"We're in my bathroom. Sorry I woke you, I just wanted to get your permission to bandage your wounds and—"

"Daniel."

"Yes?" I answer in a small voice.

"Trust you. Take off mask and coat. Am not Rorschach. Am body needing you. Need to heal." _Jeez! Since when did he start making a helluva lot of sense?_

"O-okay… thank you." And I meant it. If Rorschach says he trusted me, damn well that was the biggest compliments ever. But if he was not Rorschach, than he must be whoever is under that mask. Slowly I took off his mask to see who he really was. I couldn't breathe. He had short, choppy, orange hair and lots of freckles. He had stubble, and a deep, wary frown. His long face held a certain feel to it that makes the butterflies in my stomach have seizures. His eyes hold a sadness to them, and he seems scared. I smile slightly, "It's really okay. Everything is going to be okay. I'm serious, I'm not just telling you that. Okay?" He grunts in response, I doubt he believes me.

With one hand behind his back, pushing upwards, and the other hand taking off his coat, I manage to slide it off of him. Under the trench coat there was a while wife-beater and black sweatpants. This surprises me, because usually I see hints of purple trousers under the trench coat.

"Not usual clothes." Rorschach says. "Adrian." I give him a look.

"Adrian? What about him?" I look at Rorschach, or whoever this guy is, 's face and I see horror and fear and pain. I feel myself getting dangerously angry. My voice takes on a lower tone. "What did he do to you?" Rorschach looks away and I control myself. I don't want to embarrass him anymore. I have a feeling it was more than his pride and identity that was stolen away from him tonight. I slide up his bloody, used-to-be-white a-shirt and see the main wound. I begin to access the damage. And when I am done I slide the rest of the shirt off of him. He has fallen back asleep. There are fingerprint bruises everywhere, I trace them with my hand and can not hold back sobs any longer once I see the hand print around his neck. I fall into hysterics. I wake him up.

"Dan?" I sniffle and compose myself.

"Sorry…" I pause, "you should take a bath or shower, I could clean your wounds but I think you might feel better if you took one."

"Shower." I smile; glad to finally be able to give him some comfort, no matter how small it is. I turn on the shower and wait until it's pretty warm.

"I'll be right outside if you need anything." And then I left the room. I listen to the water run on the shower floor. Soon I hear it being disrupted, and I'm convinced he's in the shower. I go to work in the kitchen, preparing soup and toast. He takes a while in the shower, about an hour; I don't blame him. Soon I hear the water stop. I hear his footsteps coming to the kitchen and I busy myself with adjusting the toaster.

"Daniel." He says, and the way he says it sends shivers down my spine. I turn around; he's wearing a towel around his waist and nothing else. I smile again. I don't know why I keep doing it. I don't usually smile that much. Maybe I'm trying to make up for his lack of smiles. But I feel like if he'd give one tiny smile or smirk I wouldn't be able to stop smiling at all. I snap out of my trance and touch his shoulder. He flinches. I lead him over to the couch.

"You can sit here, I'll go get you some clothes." I go to my room and pick out one of my smaller t-shirts and some brown sweatpants and a pair of underwear. They'll be to big on him but they're soft and comfy— I wonder if he ever wears something just because it's soft and comfy. Probably not. I take the clothes out to him in the living room. He's asleep again. I pull a blanket over him and finish in the kitchen. I place the toast and soup on the coffee table in front of the couch and sit down next to him. He wakes up. "Hey." I smile again. He looks at the clothes in front of him. "Just put the bottoms on, I gotta treat your wound." So I get up and walk into my bedroom to get some of my own pajamas on. When I come back the toast is eaten and the soup is drank. "Want some more?" I ask as I take the dishes to the sink.

"Fine." He pauses, hesitant. "Daniel…" I look over at him. "Thanks." This brings a big smile to my face and I head back and begin to treat his wound. When I'm done bandaging it he slips the shirt on. It's way too big for him, almost falling off one of his shoulders, but it looks cute.

"So, Ror—" I pause, "uhh… What's your name?"

"Don't know." I frown, wondering what was going on.

"Err, what should I call you, then?" There was a long silence, followed by a meek,

"I don't know…" I waited, and then, "Walter. Walter," he repeated, "For now." I nod, liking the name.

"Alright. So… Walter. I've got a guest bedroom, you're probably really tired so if you wanna go over there now I'll show you." Walter grunted in response. So I led him down to the guest room and opened the door. The walls were painted black and the ceiling had cheesy glow in the dark stars. "Sorry, I can take those off…"

"Fine like this." I nod, embarrassed. There's a small, mahogany desk with paper and a pen in the corner. The bed is also mahogany, with maroon sheets. I know how weak he must be feeling, and as he takes a step forward, he falls. Luckily, I catch him, and hold him bridal style. He's half asleep with heavy lidded eyes and looks up at me like a little boy. I don't know what brings me to do it, but I kiss his forehead before I lay him down. I tuck him in and whisper a quick goodnight before getting out of there. _I kissed his head!_ I thought, _what the hell?_ I turn out all the lights in the house and barely make it to my room before collapsing on my bed. Then I realized it was only 8:30 A.M. At this point, I didn't care.


End file.
